But the Tube was packed solid, full of tired, cranky Londoners on their way home from work. “Cheers,” he said with a wink, as I wiggled my way off his leg.Īh, “cheers,” that wonderful multipurpose English term for anything from “hello” to “thank you” to “nice ass you have there.” Bright red (a shade that doesn’t do much for my auburn hair), I peered about for a place to hide. Murmuring apologies in my best faux English accent, I tried to squirm out from under his arm, tripped over a protruding umbrella, and stumbled into the denim-covered lap of the man sitting in front of me. A Frenchman, judging from the black turtleneck and the fact that his armpit was a deodorant-free zone. My nose banged into the arm of the man next to me. I clutched the overhead rail by dint of standing on the tippiest bit of my tippy toes.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |